directed shot from the darkness find its mark.

On November 11 we detrained at Theunissen, in the Free State. It was
speedily clear that this part of the world was in the grip of
disturbance. Telegraph poles all along the line had been wrecked; an
amount of mild pillaging had been going on. The people of Theunissen
were almost in panic. The two fights--one against Conroy, at Allaman's
Kraal, the other and larger, against De Wet, at Doornberg--had been
enormously magnified. General Botha was welcomed in genuine relief. We
remained at arms in the train during the first part of the night. At 2
a.m. we were roused, and in less than half an hour were on the way
across country to Winburg.

The arrival at the little railhead dorp of Winburg was remarkable.
Scarcely were we halted and hand put to loosen girth before the
loyalist leaders came running out in the morning sunshine to meet us.
De Wet had left the place two hours before, disappearing with his
following over the first kopje. He had caused absolute panic. His
forces had cut the inhabitants off from all touch with the outer world.
De Wet had commandeered all food supplies worth having. Houses had been
looted and speeches were made in the marketplace. His followers had
assured the people that the Empire was tottering, Germany had defeated
Britain on land and sea, a hundred thousand were marching on Pretoria,
and that Botha and his Government were defeated and disgraced. And
these statements were to a large extent believed.

It was but natural. Cut off the wire and rail communication of a South
African veld town and you have isolation in the most thorough sense. In
such a place at such a time mere statement may seem quite possibly the
truth.